Michelangelo: Babysitter Extraordinaire!
by starry-oblivion
Summary: When April's sister lands a date with a single father, there's just one small problem: they don't have anyone to babysit his young daughter. Luckily, Michelangelo offers to solve that problem for them. [Part of my Reflections series, but can stand alone.]
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** All of the original characters mentioned in this story (Robert, Rosalind, and Allison) have been introduced in my "Reflections" series, but I'd definitely consider this a "stand alone" piece. If you disagree, please let me know.

Enjoy!

* * *

"Welcome to Second Time Around. May I…oh!" 

April stopped herself in mid-spiel as she turned around and saw who it was that just walked into her shop. It was Robert Donnelly, and he was carrying his two-year-old daughter with him. A friend of one of the turtles' close friends, he only just recently learned about the existence of the turtles when his life was put in danger by one of their enemies. Needless to say, he was still taking it rather hard.

"Hi," he said quietly. April wondered if he remembered her as being involved with the turtles, but he quickly answered that query. "You're April, right? One of... you were there when… I mean, you're one of Allison's friends, yeah?"

"Yup," she replied with a small smile. "And you're Rob. And that's Rosalind, right?" Robert nodded, and April wondered if she should mention that she remembered when Rosalind was a baby. She decided against it, not knowing how much Allison had managed to tell him. "So," she asked, "what can I do for you?"

"I just… I need to know that Allison's okay." April softened her gaze on Robert as he looked down. It was no secret that Robert appeared to have a thing for Allison, and it was also no secret that Allison and Raphael had a "special" kind of friendship. "Allison means a lot to me and… I don't know anything about… _them_. It was okay when I thought they were just wearing costumes to a comic convention, but when I found out that they were… you know… what they are, I haven't really been able to think about much else. They seem like good guys, but… how do I know they won't go all psycho crazy on her and use their ninja skills in a bad way?"

"Rob," April said soothingly, putting a hand on the man's shoulder. "I think you've known Allison enough to be able to trust her judgment. And if not, then take it from me; I've known the guys way longer than she has. I've never seen them hurt a human being that wasn't about to, you know… perpetrate a crime or attempt to take over the world or something."

"They fight bad guys," Rosalind said resolutely. "Because they're superheroes with magic powers." Robert looked down at his daughter, wondering just how she seemed to know so much about these creatures that he had only just met a few weeks ago.

"Hey sis?" April looked back as her sister Robyn came in from the backroom. "I was relabeling some old files back there for you, and my sharpie ran out of ink. Have you got another?" Seeing Robert, she stopped. "Oh! Sorry! Didn't mean to interrupt while you were talking to a customer."

"It's okay, Robyn," April responded, walking towards the counter in search of a sharpie. "Rob's something of an old friend. Robert, this is my sister Robyn. She's spending some time with me until she can get things worked out with her new apartment downtown."

"Nice name," Robyn remarked. "I especially like the prefix."

Robert laughed at her remark. "Thanks. This is my daughter, Rosalind. I'm sensing a definite similarity between names, but I can't quite figure out what it is." Rosalind waved up at the newcomer, seemingly enraptured with her.

"A guy who laughs at bad jokes and who has a cute kid," Robyn mused, accepting the marker from April. "Your wife lucked out."

"Oh, uh," Robert began awkwardly. "Actually, I'm not married. My, uh… my girlfriend… she, um… didn't make it through childbirth."

Robyn's face took on a horrified look. "Oh… oh gosh. Wow. I… I'm sorry. I didn't mean…." April watched as Robyn offered more embarrassed apologies while Robert uncomfortably tried to tell her that it was okay.

"Well, talk about a first impression," April muttered dryly.

"You have freckles," Rosalind suddenly proclaimed, pointing to Robyn. She then pointed to her own chubby cheeks. "I have freckles, too. Daddy says it's because I spend too much time in the sun. Do _you_ spend a lot of time in the sun?"

Robyn smiled gently at the small girl. "You bet," she replied. "I like going to parks and sketching random things that catch my attention. You can catch me sitting on a bench for hours at a time."

"You're an artist?" Robert asked, surprised.

"Artist is such a… _professional_ term," Robyn answered. "I'm not nearly good enough at it to be called an artist."

"Oh, well, I can always look over your stuff sometime, maybe give you a few pointers," Robert suggested shyly. "See, I draw comic books for a living, so I'd be more than happy to look at your portfolio, if you're interested."

"Wait a minute," Robyn gasped. "April, this isn't the same guy that you said drew _The Sewer Dwellers_, is he?" When both April and Robert affirmed that it was, Robyn appeared amazed. "Oh _wow_, you have _no_ idea how much I loved that comic! I was _so_ disappointed that it was only a one-shot graphic novelization. You're _amazing_!"

Seeing Robert's blush, April had the distinct impression that things were about to get a little complicated.

* * *

"Guys, I've got something of a crisis." 

Leonardo looked up from his sparring match with Donatello, concerned as April sped into the lair. "What is it, April?" Going over the list of disaster scenarios that they've already experienced, he asked, "Someone's been kidnapped? A priceless artifact has gone missing? Someone's been following you?"

"Worse," April professed. "My baby sister's got a date!"

The turtles blinked and looked at one another. Putting his weapon away, Donatello asked, "And how, o reasonable and wise best friend of mine, is this a crisis? Do you suspect that the date's going to sprout tentacles and carry her off to his home planet?"

"Very funny," April remarked dryly. "Actually, her date's Rob Donnelly. Allison's friend." The turtles ceased their quiet chuckling, and April crossed her arms over her chest. "Oh, so you're only interested _after_ knowing that it has something to do with other people you know. Thanks a _lot_, guys."

"Robert and… Robyn?" Leonardo breathed, confused.

"It sounds like a brand new sitcom," Donatello mused.

"It was the most random thing," April said, moving to sit on the sofa. "They met in my shop about a week ago, and have apparently been calling and instant messaging one another ever since. And they finally settled on a first date, but it's the most inconvenient timing for everyone."

Joining her on the sofa, the two turtles asked what she meant. "It's next Friday… the _same_ day that Casey, Raph, Allison, and I are going to that stupid hockey game. Robert doesn't have anyone to watch after Rosalind, and he still has too many trust issues after the convention fiasco to leave her with someone new. Now Robyn's trying to convince me to break _my_ date so I can stay with Rosalind, but I don't want to leave Allison alone with Raphael and Casey; it'd be like a trip to Hotheads Anonymous."

"Never fear, fair maiden!" The group looked up just in time to see Michelangelo jump down from his room, his hands on his hips in a valiant display. "Luckily for you, I—the Turtle Titan—not only dedicate myself to thwarting crime whenever and wherever it might arise… but I also do babysitting."

"Mikey," Donatello whined.

"Mike, are you kidding?" Leonardo asked.

"What?" Michelangelo queried, slightly offended. "_I'm_ not doing anything Friday night. And Rosalind's _crazy _about her Uncle Mikey! And besides, Rob knows me! Well, _now_ he does, at least. And he seemed to like me when he met me at the convention. Remember, he bought me all those comic books."

"That was _before_ he found out that you weren't wearing a turtle costume," Leonardo reminded him. "Mikey, I hardly think that he'll even want to _look_ at us until his nerves calm down, never mind entrust his daughter to one of us for the night."

"Actually," April brought up, "he just might. I mean, Allison and I have been talking, and it seems like Rob's really kinda… well, for lack of a better word, smitten by Robyn. Wow, it feels weird for me to say that. Anyway, I don't think it'll take too much convincing if Mikey really wanted to do it, since neither of them have any opportunity for another date until the end of the month."

"Woo-hoo!" Michelangelo screamed out, pumping his fist in the air. "And Michelangelo gets one night of unsupervised fun time with the mini-bud!"

"Only if Rob agrees to it," April reminded him, getting up again. "I'll find Rob's number and tell him you're willing to do it. He still can't even bring himself to say the word 'turtle,' so it isn't likely that he'll be willing to explain to Robyn why he'd turn down an offer from one of my friends."

"I can't believe this," Donatello bemoaned. "We're actually trusting Mikey alone with a two-year-old for several hours? Why do I suddenly feel the need to clear my social calendar for Friday night?"

"If Raphael's going to be out," Leonardo informed him, "and Mike's babysitting, it's going to fall on _our_ shoulders to go patrolling for the night. Still, the idea of Rosalind's safety being in Mike's hands for the evening is making me debate whether or not I can handle whatever happens to pop up that night on my own."

"Yeah," Michelangelo replied bitterly as his brothers laughed at him. "You guys are a laugh riot. You trust _Raph_ to be out alone with Allison almost every night. True, she's a little bigger than a two-year-old, but still! Pop in a DVD, make some popcorn, teach her some of my favorite movie quotes, read her a bedtime comic, and pig out on Rob's food 'til he gets home. What's the worst that can happen?" Realizing what he just said, Michelangelo put a hand to his head.

"Man, oh man," he murmured, "why do I _always_ jinx myself?"


	2. Chapter 2

"I can't believe I've actually agreed to this."

Michelangelo walked into Robert's apartment, taking off his trench coat and hat. "Hey, listen buddy," he told the man, "if you'd rather stay here and watch over Ros _and_ me instead of going out and getting some potential lip-lock action, you go ahead and do that. You already ordered the pizza, and I already brought over some of my favorite movies of all time. So it's your choice: cuddle up against a girl, or cuddle up against a shell. Just don't cuddle _too_ close, though; we're not _that_ chummy."

"Point taken," Robert sighed. "Come on, Rosalind's bedroom is back here." As he led the turtle towards the room, he told him, "The pizza just got here about five minutes ago. It's on the table. Rosalind only ever eats half a slice, and you're welcome to take the rest back home. Make sure she's asleep by nine, and _please_ don't let her watch something like _Attack of the Killer Tomatoes _right before bed; Allison told me about your taste in movies. I should be home by 11:30, emergency numbers are by the phone, don't set the house on fire, and all of the usual stuff." He stopped before realizing, "Oh. Right. You've never done this before."

"Nope," Michelangelo replied. "But I'm a fast learner. Besides, I left the lighter fluid in my other coat." Robert gave him a hard glance, and Michelangelo put his hands up defensively. "Kidding, kidding! Lighter fluid equals fire, fire equals smoke, and smoke equals air pollution. I'm an eco-friendly kind of guy."

Although it almost seemed as though Robert didn't quite believe him, he opened the door to Rosalind's room. "Honey," he said to the girl who was working on a coloring book at a small play table. "Mikey's here now, so give me a kiss before I-"

"Uncle Mikey!" Robert was cut off as Rosalind jumped from her chair and ran straight for the turtle, almost knocking him off his feet as she hugged his leg. "Uncle Mikey, I missed you sooooo much! I was so happy when Daddy said you were coming over! We're gonna have sooooo much fun!"

"It's the bright colors," Robert muttered as Michelangelo scooped the girl up in his arms. "Green and orange. And the novelty of it. Yeah, that's gotta be it. At least, that's what two years of reading child psychology books have taught me."

"Child psychology?" Michelangelo scoffed. "Get real, man. Kids are just kids. No need to put science behind it." To Rosalind, he proclaimed, "We're gonna have a blast, mini-bud! Take a look in this bag I'm carrying! We've got _The Wolfman_, _House of Dracula_, _The Screaming Skull_-"

"A-_hem_," Robert coughed.

"Uh… and um… _Sleeping Beauty_ and _Anastasia_," Michelangelo remarked. "And it looks like those are the only movies you'll be able to watch before your nine o'clock bedtime." Robert rolled his eyes and walked out of the room to collect his jacket and keys. In a hushed whisper, Michelangelo told Rosalind, "And by _'Sleeping Beauty,' _I of _course_ meant _The Brain that Wouldn't Die_. And by '_Anastasia,_' I of _course_ meant… well… _Anastasia_, actually. Because let's face it. The bad guy's pretty cool and gross-looking."

All of this seemed to go way over Rosalind's head, but she seemed delighted by it nonetheless. Michelangelo carried her out into the living room, where Robert had just finished buttoning his jacket. "Okay, Ros," Robert said, reaching out for his daughter. "Kiss now. For real this time." Michelangelo handed her over to him, and Robert hugged Rosalind tightly. "Be a good girl for Mikey, and if he starts scaring you, you just scream real loud like I told you to and run downstairs to one of the neighbors."

"Wow," Michelangelo said sarcastically. "I'm really feeling the bonds of trust here, bro. They're wrapped right around my ankle like a ball-and-chain."

"Cute," Robert responded only somewhat bitterly as he put Rosalind down and opened the door. "See to it that she survives the night, and I'll even consider paying you in something other than pizza next time."

"Hey, did you forget, bro?" Michelangelo asked. "Your date's sister is my best friend. Depending on what I tell April, I can guarantee whether or not there'll _be_ a next time." Robert offered him a look, seeming to actually consider this. It looked like he needed to get away before Mikey-logic began to rub off, so with a wave goodbye, he headed towards the elevator.

Michelangelo quickly closed the door, trying not to slam it in his excitement. As he engaged all of the locks, he marveled, "Five hours. Five hours without Leo trying to get me to train or Raph beating me upside the head or Donnie telling me to lower my music or Sensei telling me that I need to focus more. Five hours of nothing but absolute awesomeness with someone who actually appreciates me. Five hours of… huh? Mini-bud? Where'd you go?"

Looking around, he quickly spotted Rosalind in the corner of the living room, near the modestly-stacked DVD case. Wondering over what Robert could possibly have in his collection that Rosalind would be more interested in than _The Brain That Wouldn't Die_, Michelangelo walked over towards her. "What ya got there, mini-bud? Some unearthed classic, or a brand new timeless tale straight out of the cinema?"

Rosalind grabbed a DVD, then turned and proudly displayed it to Michelangelo. "This one," she proclaimed. "We'll watch _this_ one. It's my favorite!" Michelangelo looked down at the movie and flinched.

"Oh, no," he groaned. "Not _Fern Gully_. Ros, this movie is number one on the list of movies that I _don't_ need to see again. I don't understand how someone who was born _after_ the early 90's ever managed to get her cute little hands on it. Lemme guess… this was your dad's doing, huh?"

"But Uncle Mikey," Rosalind insisted, "it has _fairies_!"

"Yeah, okay," Michelangelo replied, cringing again. "You've probably managed to block out the truly horrifying experience, mini-bud, but we've _met_ real faeries. And they're bad news. Don't you have anything that's not quite as close to home?"

"But Batty's so funny!" Rosalind whimpered.

"Aw, don't look at me like that, Ros," Michelangelo murmured. "Fine, fine. We'll watch _Fern Gully_. I _did_ mention being an eco-friendly kind of turtle, anyway. Just hope you know that we're _totally _watching _The Wolfman_ after this. …it's educational, trust me."

He plucked the DVD out of her hands as she began to babble about how "sweet" he was. Feeling a grin coming on, he found the remote and turned on the television. "Aw, that's great, Ros. Now, where does your dad keep the popcorn?"

"Popcorn?"

Michelangelo froze. "You don't have popcorn? Are you for real? How are we going to watch a movie without some popcorn? Well, at least there's pizza. What about soda?"

"Soda?" Rosalind asked. "Yuck! Daddy says that'll make me lose all my teeth before I'm ten! But there's a biiiiiiig bottle of orange juice." Already ill at ease, Michelangelo went into the kitchen with the girl following right behind him. "See?" Rosalind said, pointing into the refrigerator that the turtle just opened. "There it is, behind the milk."

Michelangelo made a small, scared sound when he saw that even the milk was of the fat-free variety. Closing the refrigerator, he quickly opened the freezer, then went to the cupboards. After doing a thorough examination of the kitchen, he leaned against the table, aghast. "No chips," he lamented, "No ice cream. No candy bars. Not even a soft drink. What a way for me to find out that Rob's a health food nut."

"What's a health food nut?" Rosalind inquired. "It sounds funny."

"Well, they're funny people," Michelangelo responded. "Funny in the head, at any rate." Looking at the pizza, Michelangelo reached towards it and peeked inside, wholly expecting to find it topped with tofu and broccoli. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that it was just a plain pizza from your average corner pizza shop. Luckily, Allison must have told Robert about Michelangelo's dietary habits as well as his movie preferences.

Looking around, he found some paper plates and napkins that Robert had apparently set aside on the counter for the occasion. "At least I'm not gonna starve," he murmured, getting everything set up. "Your dad said only half a slice for you, mini-bud… but why carve up such a beautiful piece of work?" He handed her a plate with a full slice and was amused by how much her eyes widened at the sight of the large piece of pizza she was expected to eat.

_Only daughter of a nervous health nut_, Michelangelo realized. _She's probably gonna be one of those overprotected kids that everyone at school feels sorry for cuz she's never allowed to hang out past dark. Either someone's gotta teach Rob how to loosen up a bit, or this gal's gonna be in for a rude awakening by the time she gets to high school._

Pouring some apple juice for the two of them, Michelangelo tried to remember something he heard Donatello tell him once. Most human children acquire the majority of their personality traits by the age of three. _Hmm,_ the turtle mused. _She's still got a few months left to open her eyes. Rob's an easy-going kind of guy, so he wouldn't mind if his kid learned how to live it up a little._

"Uncle Mikey, why are you smiling? Did I do something funny?"

Michelangelo looked down at the girl as he grinned broadly. "Nah, I was just thinking of how much fun we're gonna have the next time we hang out. I don't have anything special planned right now, but boy, are _we_ gonna make up for lost time."

Though she had no idea what he meant, Rosalind returned his smile with one of her own.

* * *

_Wow, talk about Dullsville_. 

Michelangelo had to keep himself from falling asleep at the relatively poorly-animated cartoon from yesteryear. There was only so much he could take of watching an inept fairy accidentally shrinking a clueless human into the size of a bug and helping him to learn to listen to the forces of nature. Hearing Tim Curry sing "Toxic Love" made him briefly wish he had brought over _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_, but he had the distinct impression that Rosalind wouldn't be too into something like that. Heck, that movie even disturbed Raphael.

He glanced over at Rosalind, hoping she was also bored by the film. Unfortunately, she wasn't. If anything, she laughed more and more as the movie went on, even at things that little kids shouldn't laugh about (she must have a healthy sense of dark humor if she found it amusing when the bad guy started winning). _Maybe there's hope for her yet,_ Michelangelo thought.

He grabbed his empty plate and got up, meaning to get a refill as an excuse to take a breath from the cutesy pseudo-Disney flick. Once in the kitchen, he glanced at the time on the microwave. _Fern Gully_ should be over in another forty minutes, and Rosalind's bedtime would be less than an hour after that.

He had no intention of getting her to bed at exactly nine o'clock, since he wanted to be known as being the cool babysitter. Still, it didn't seem likely that she would take to any of the movies he had brought except for _Anastasia_, and there was a limit to how many pseudo-Disney musicals he could take in one night.

_A game, maybe?_ Michelangelo pondered. _With my luck, there won't be any gaming consoles around more modern than an Atari… which might be cool, if it were the genuine thing. Still, I'm thinking that ain't the case and that Rob wouldn't buy Rosalind any light sabers, action figures, or build her a cool cape. Man, what kind of comic book geek _is_ he, anyway? _

With the lights still off, he reached into the pizza box and put another slice on his plate, still not willing to go back out there and watch some more dancing pixies. He headed towards the window, glancing out at the cool night and wondering what his friends were up to. _Allison and April probably _both_ wish that they could trade places with me, since Raph and Casey are probably embarrassing them with their sports fanaticism. And Leo and Don are probably back home after a quick patrol and are mooching off of my DVD collection or something. I wonder if Ros would rat me out if I decided to take her back to the lair and teach her how to play _Soul Caliber_…._

His thoughts were interrupted when he caught sight of something odd going on across the street. A teenaged kid apparently just jumped a wooden fence, landing in a small backyard. As he looked around the yard, Michelangelo wondered if the guy was trying to sneak into his girlfriend's house or was breaking some kind of parental rule. Seeing the kid take a ski mask out of his back pocket and put it over his face, Michelangelo had a good idea of what was going on.

_Great_, he groaned to himself. _An amateur. How pathetic can you get?_ He flinched when the kid knelt by the backdoor and, after only a few seconds of fiddling with a small instrument and the lock, managed to get it open. As the kid quietly made his way inside the house, Michelangelo realized that these "amateurs" were getting a little too good. He blamed it on pop culture.

_Okay, a few ways I can deal with this_, he thought. _I can do what any normal person would do and call the cops, letting _them_ handle it. Of course, waiting for them to get here means I run the risk of this twerp getting away. Or I could do the smart thing and call Leo and Donnie and let _them_ handle it. Of course, waiting for _them_ to get here means I run the risk of letting this twerp run away… again. I could also let Rosalind watch her movie for a bit while I go over and handle the kid by _myself_, though then I officially label myself as the Worst Babysitter Ever for abandoning my charge. And then, there's the final option…._

"Hey mini-bud," Michelangelo suddenly called into the living room. "Wanna go on an adventure?" 


	3. Chapter 3

"But Uncle Mikey, I don't _wanna_ go outside!"

"Aw, quit griping, mini-bud," Michelangelo told the girl as he zipped up her jacket. "It's gonna be fun! You just stick really, really close to me, and nothing's gonna happen to you! Honest! If my little kitty Klunk can survive busting up a major robbery while hanging onto me, then _you_ shouldn't have a problem with it."

Seeing that Rosalind was still reluctant, Michelangelo took a deep breath and added, "If you come along… I'll sing you the 'Batty Rap' for bedtime, okay?" When her eyes light up, Michelangelo rolled his eyes and took her hand. "You know," he told her as he led her towards the window, "we're _really_ gonna have to work on getting your priorities straightened out."

Seeing Michelangelo take off the baby-proofing gate over the window, Rosalind's suspicious flared up once again. "Out the window? But the door's right _there_!" Michelangelo murmured something about finding her sense of adventure just before grabbing her and ducking out the window.

"Lucky you don't live in a penthouse suite," he remarked, looking down at the yard three stories below them. He wished that this neighborhood hadn't phased out good, old-fashioned clotheslines, but he's made higher jumps before. "Now just hold on tight and prepare to get your breath taken away."

"But I _like_ my breath!" Rosalind squealed, clutching Michelangelo as he leapt.

Landing lightly on his feet, Michelangelo shushed her as he ran for the fence dividing her building's yard and the enclosure of the two-family house across the way. "Gotta keep quiet, mini-bud. Remember, it's part of the rules of the game. We gotta make sure he doesn't see _us_ before we can see _him_. And once we see him, it's just a one-two punch and a call to the cops."

Seeing Rosalind nod solemnly, he was so pleased that he almost let out an excited laugh. _I'm raising my very own vigilante sidekick!_ Michelangelo thought exuberantly as he jumped the fence and crept into the backyard across the way.

Listening closely, he determined that there was no one by the door, and so he slowly opened it and peered within. It looked like he was stepping into a dark kitchen. He quickly slid in and closed the door behind him before he could announce his presence with the shifting shadows. Michelangelo put a finger to his mouth, wordlessly reminding Rosalind that silence was key. Luckily for him, she was one of the more well-behaved toddlers in the world.

He let his eyes adjust to the darkness before taking the chance to move around. He was startled to hear _two_ voices coming from the next room. Sticking to the shadows, he poked his head out and peered around. Drat. There _were_ two of them.

Michelangelo ducked back into the kitchen. Leaning in close to Rosalind's ear, he told the girl in a thin whisper, "Okay, slight change of plans due to a miscalculation. I'm gonna sit you down on this counter right here while I deal with the bad guys. If one of them slips past me, you just sit there and do an impersonation of a cookie jar." Rosalind appeared confused, but Michelangelo quickly put his hand over her mouth before she could speak. "Cookie jars don't talk."

Rosalind still didn't seem to understand what was going on, but she widened her eyes slightly and nodded. When Michelangelo removed his hand, she put her own finger to her lips, as though signaling that she planned to remain very quiet throughout the entire ordeal. With a sideways smile, Michelangelo patted her on the head as he turned back towards the next room.

_No need to get fancy,_ he thought as he edged into the room. _Ros won't be able to see the show, so all I gotta do is just bring 'em down and call the cops. Piece of cake. Or pie. Pizza pie. Better get back before my pizza gets cold._

"Lookit this," Michelangelo heard one of the guys whisper to the others. "A brand new Toshiba laptop! What kinda people leave a brand new laptop out on the coffee table, especially if they live right on the first floor?"

"Better question is," Michelangelo interjected from the shadows, "what kinda people would actually break into somebody's home and try to take something that isn't theirs?" As he spoke the words, Michelangelo rushed at the two would-be thieves, catching them off-guard. By the time he was done speaking, one was already on the ground and another had taken cover behind the sofa.

"Ah, ah, ah," Michelangelo scolded the young kid that tried to make himself scarce. "No fair playing the coward-" He cut himself off when he saw the kid pop up, holding something that looked suspiciously like a gun. With a gulp, the turtle added, "Of course, I'm not always known to play fair."

"Get back," the kid told him in a harsh whisper. This made Michelangelo curious. The guy was keeping his voice down, meaning he thought that the house was currently occupied. Yet, he'd risk firing a gun?

_Can't chance it, though,_ Michelangelo thought, taking a step backwards. _So long's Ros is around, I can't risk doing anything that'll end up _severely_ ruining my babysitting rep. _As the guy began looking more and more nervous as his vision improved and he could see his attacker, Michelangelo quickly realized two things.

One, his opponent didn't want to risk possibly waking up whoever lived in the house, meaning that he was scared of being caught. Either he knows who he's robbing, or he doesn't want to think of what might happen when his parents discover what he's been up to on a Friday night. And two… judging by the way the kid's hand was shaking, it looked like the gun was really, really lightweight. As in, possibly made of plastic.

"You know," Michelangelo told him once his vision adjusted enough to ascertain that the weapon _was_ a fake, "I didn't know they sold guns painted in army camouflage with a bright orange trigger."

The kid looked down at his weapon, and that millisecond was all it took for Michelangelo to be on top of him, wrenching what looked like a water pistol out of his hands. In the process, some of the liquid inside the gun squirted into the turtle's hand, and he had to keep himself from screaming as he felt his palm burning. _Some kinda acid_, he realized as the boy managed to squirm away and retreated towards the kitchen. _Oh man, now this punk is _really_ going down! That just isn't nice!_

Michelangelo jumped up to his feet and dodged towards the boy, tackling him before he could get to the next room. "Oh no you _don't_!" He'll give the kid credit; he was about as slippery as a fish. "Listen buddy," Michelangelo grunted, trying to pin him down. "I don't wanna do this anymore than you wanna be goin' through it, but fair's fair, law's law, and-"

"And _this_ gun's a gun."

Michelangelo froze, not having expected to hear another voice behind him. He could have sworn that the kid's friend had gotten knocked out, and that he hadn't heard him get up. Turning around, he flinched and groaned, "Oh man. Why do the _bad_ guys always have unexpected back-up?"

Though he couldn't make out any details, Michelangelo could see a much bigger man holding a much bigger gun emerging from down the hallway that he supposed led off to the bedrooms. He was pushing along two hysterical women, both of whom he suspected were the occupants of the house. He cringed once again when the women were thrown onto the floor.

"Get up," the newcomer told Michelangelo, pointing his gun towards the women. Michelangelo looked down at the two captives. They were crying and clinging at one another, and he guessed that they were a mother-daughter pair. Michelangelo hoped that there was no one else in the house, since that would lead to him wondering what became of the father.

As Michelangelo crawled off the younger kid and got to his feet, the kid cried out, "Hey… hey Frankie! What are ya doing with them? Ya said we wouldn't have to wake them up at all-"

"That was _before_ you drew some attention to yourself," Frankie replied. He looked down at the still form of the boy's accomplice and angrily said, "Look at that. Kev's out cold. Jesus, Marco, can't you do _any_thing right?"

"Well, it looks like I walked in on a spat between a group of friends," Michelangelo brought up. "And since I hate watching friends fight, I'm just gonna head on back and mind my own business, okay? Nice meeting you." He tried to turn to leave, but Marco grabbed his arm, trying to make up for his earlier cowardice. _Good_, Michelangelo thought. _You guys really _are_ predictable_.

"_You_ ain't going anywhere, freak," Marco growled at him.

"Then maybe _you_ oughta take a trip," Michelangelo remarked. Grabbing the kid's hand off his arm, Michelangelo quickly flipped him over himself, ducking just in case Frankie got trigger happy. He did, but he was also a bad aim. Michelangelo turned around just in time to see Marco crash against his larger cohort.

"C'mon," he hurriedly told the two women on the floor, grabbing their arms and trying to pull them up. "Move!" The two of them stumbled to their feet and allowed themselves to be pushed towards the kitchen. Before Michelangelo could join them, another shot was heard. "Go!" Michelangelo ordered, shoving them into the kitchen before he turned around.

"Carmen!" Marco called as he tried to scramble after the girls. "Carmen, wait-!" He was cut off by a turtle putting an arm around him and tossing him back onto the floor.

"Man, stealing from friends?" Michelangelo murmured, dodging another round of bullets from Frankie. "That's just low, bro. I really hope she returns the friendship bracelet while you're in the slammer."

He ended up behind Frankie, who whirled around as he furiously tried to shoot down the shadowy pest that was interfering with his heist. His eyesight blurred when he instead got a large foot in his gut, sending him reeling backwards. Michelangelo noticed that the other young kid that he had taken out was just starting to stir, but that changed when Frankie landed on top of him. "Ouch," Michelangelo muttered, "_that_ kid's gonna be sore when he wakes up."

He took the opportunity to hurriedly grab Frankie's gun away before he could cause any more damage than a few bullet holes in the walls. Fiddling with it for a moment, he figured out how to unload the cartridge and threw it aside, then threw the gun at the other side of the room. He could feel Marco running for him from behind, and Michelangelo waited until Marco was close enough before he turned, grabbed him, and threw him down against Frankie. Looking down at the kid on the bottom, Michelangelo whistled lowly as he remarked, "Now that kid's gonna be _really _sore."

From the distance, Michelangelo detected the wail of a police siren. _Huh_, he thought, _I wouldn't think that they'd be able to get here _that_ fast after the girls escaped. Maybe someone heard the ruckus and called the cops earlier?_

Frankie and Marco both tried to get up when they heard the dreaded siren, but Michelangelo held them down. "What's the rush, boys? Instead of you guys breaking into people's houses uninvited, the boys in blue are about to put out the welcome mat… in front of a jail cell."

With a lopsided grin, he made sure that neither of them would be conscious enough to move before the police got there. Knowing he had to make tracks before he became either an eyewitness or a suspected accomplice, Michelangelo then got up and quickly ran for the kitchen.

He ignored all of Rosalind's questions until they were safely back in her apartment.

* * *

"Man, what a rush."

Michelangelo stared down at the flashing lights of the police cars surrounding the house across the way. After replacing the baby-proof gate on the window, he sat Rosalind down on the window sill and was looking over the hectic scene with a sense of satisfaction.

"And there you have it, mini-bud," Michelangelo told her after a moment. "Maybe you didn't get to do much, but you can say that you were there while your Uncle Mikey broke up a potentially violent crime. …'course, you _won't_ say it, not to your dad, or to my bros, or to Allison. Well, _maybe_ Allison, but only after you make her pinky-swear not to tell anyone."

Rosalind had her hands pressed against the glass, staring intently out the window. "Those men were bad," she finally said. "They had guns and hurt my Uncle Mikey." Michelangelo was about to ask what she meant, but Rosalind's eyes went down to look at his burned hand. She had apparently noticed it when he had taken her jacket off. Observant kid, he'll admit.

"Hey, this?" Michelangelo asked quietly, flexing his hand. "This is nothing. Probably won't even scar. I'm just glad that none of them managed to find you. Cuz if something happens to you, _that'd_ hurt me. A whole lot more than guns ever will."

Rosalind smiled up at him, and it made Michelangelo break out in a grin to see her like that. He _had_ been worried that something might happen to her once he discovered that there was more than just one lone punk, and so he was extremely relieved that she ended up none the worse for wear. He'll have to think a little more carefully about inviting her on anymore adventures, though… at least until she was a little older. Five should be a good age for her next patrol session.

"C'mon," he told her, picking her up from the window sill. "It's almost nine, so let's start getting you ready for bed while I look for something to read to you, okay?"

As he walked her towards her room, Rosalind asked, "You _are_ going to sing Batty's song, right?" Michelangelo groaned, and Rosalind shook his shoulders insistently. "Uncle Mikey! You promised! I went with you and was real quiet! I didn't talk at all except for when I called 9-1-1!"

Michelangelo stopped, looking down at her in surprise. "9-1-1? _You_ called the cops?"

Rosalind nodded. "Uh-huh. Daddy always says that if I'm ever scared of somebody, I just gotta call them and tell them what's wrong and where I am." She paused for a moment before confidentially adding, "I don't think the lady was too smart, though. I kept telling her I'm across the street, and she didn't know where that was."

Realizing that the operator was able to trace the call and that a little girl did what _he_ should have done in the first place, Michelangelo laughed quietly. "You know, mini-bud, your dad might not like me very much… but I'm really lovin' the way he raised you so far. Musta been some real good genes working to make you."

"I don't like wearing jeans," Rosalind told him resolutely.


	4. Chapter 4

"Uncle Mikey, why are you wearing your mask tilted?"

Adjusting Rosalind's nightgown, Michelangelo replied, "Just covering my eyes, mini-bud. It ain't right for a guy to see a girl changing, y'know." When Rosalind asked why, Michelangelo sheepishly answered, "I'll tell you when you're older."

Sliding his bandanna back around so that he could see again, Michelangelo picked the girl up and carried her over to the bed. "Okay, that was about twelve renditions of the 'Batty Rap' while you were brushing your teeth and changing. Am I off the hook now?"

"Only because it's story time!" Rosalind responded excitedly.

If he didn't have the amount of energy he was infamous for, Michelangelo would have been exhausted. Instead, he laid her down on her bed and jumped in next to her, grabbing the small pile of books he had placed on her night table. "Okay, the bad news is you don't exactly have a wide array of choices," he told her as he looked through the titles. "When your birthday rolls around, I'm gonna have to invest in some R.L. Stine for you. For now, we've got three different Bernstein Bears stories—one about the dangers of junk food, one about the importance of visiting the dentist, and another one about not talking to strangers—all of which lead me to believe that I need to have a _serious_ talk with your dad. The good news is I found this old copy of _Frankenstein_ in your dad's room! It looks a little too long for me to finish in one night, but hey… it's _Frankenstein_!"

Rosalind quickly shuffled through the books until she took out the story about not talking to strangers. "Ah, c'mon, Ros," Michelangelo groaned. "You're kidding me, right? Some of my best friends were strangers! Heck, if I didn't talk to strangers, I never woulda met April, and then your dad wouldn't be taking _anyone_ out on a date. And hey, Allison was a stranger when I first met her, but if I hadn't talked to her, you and me never would've met!"

The girl seemed to consider this for a moment before asking, "So… talking to strangers is okay?" Michelangelo was about to say something, but stopped. Perhaps he wasn't the best person to talk to about human interactions.

"You know," he murmured as he took the book from her, defeated, "just chalk it up to something else I'll explain to you when you're older. All I'll say right now is that when you live in a sewer, strangers are _normal_."

He opened the book and was about to begin reading when Rosalind spoke up. "Uncle Mikey?" Michelangelo looked down at her as she lowly asked, "Why do you look different? Different from me and Daddy?"

Michelangelo blinked down at her, not knowing what to say. Up until now, it seemed like Rosalind had simply assumed that he was a superhero with special powers, and _that_ was why he "looked different." Judging by the serious look in her eyes, though, it seemed like she's really been wondering over this recently.

"I, uh…" Michelangelo started awkwardly. "Um, if I tell you a story about green alien goo and Japanese martial arts, would you believe me?"

Rosalind looked up at him blankly. Finally, she answered, "I'll believe anything you tell me, Uncle Mikey. You're a good guy."Michelangelo's eyes softened. Outside of his family, he couldn't think of anyone who actually said that they trusted him. It was a nice thing to hear.

Cuddling up next to Rosalind, he quietly said, "Once upon a time, there were four baby turtles who just got bought by a little kid. They were really happy to be going to a nice home, and they were even happier because they liked being together, since they considered themselves brothers. But on the way there, the kid that was carrying them fell, and the turtles dropped into the sewer. Being babies, they didn't know better and began walking around in this really disgusting glowing green ooze. They were rescued by a rat who saw the whole thing. And something really weird happened. They all started to grow. And as they grew, they got smarter and faster and stronger. And so the rat, who used to belong to a ninja master in Japan, decided to teach these four turtles how to be ninjas. I guess there's really not much else he could've done with his spare time, y'know? So these ninja turtles lived in the sewer all by themselves until they saved a girl who was about to be eaten by these creepy little robots. Her name was April, and she was really nice… once she, y'know, stopped freaking out. She became friends with the turtles, and they eventually met a crazy guy named Casey and lots of other cool people.

"One of these people was another girl named Allison. Allison was hurt and when one of the turtles—the dashingly handsome one named Michelangelo, by the way—took her back to where they lived, lots of crazy stuff happened. In the process, they found a car with a little, tiny baby inside. The car and the baby both belonged to one of Allison's friends, and she was really scared that something might have happened to him. And so the turtles calmed Allison down and tracked down her friend, while only one of the turtles—again, that dashingly handsome one named Michelangelo—was able to keep the baby from crying. Though it was almost two years later before Michelangelo saw the baby again, he never forgot about her, because he knew she'd be the most amazing sidekick this side of the galaxy as soon as she was able to walk. And you know what? He was right."

He looked down to see that Rosalind had closed her eyes. Either the story wasn't as exciting as he had thought, or she had been more tired out by the events of the night than she let on. Still, he continued towards the conclusion. "Not too long ago, I would've said that we look different because we _are_. But seeing how close Allison and Raphael are, and how much you look up to me, mini-bud, I'm beginning to think that that's not true. We might look different, but we're the same. And no matter how many vegetables your dad makes you eat, that's not gonna change."

"Maybe if I eat enough green," Rosalind murmured sleepily, "then I'll be green, too." Michelangelo laughed as he got up and tucked the blankets around her.

"I doubt it," he whispered. "But there's no harm in trying." Picking up the pile of books he had laid around her bed, he leaned in and gave her a small kiss on the forehead. "G'night, mini-bud. Sweet dreams."

He quietly went towards the door and hit the light switch. Just as he was about to leave, Rosalind called his name. Looking back, he saw that she had sat herself up and was looking at him. In a shy voice, she asked, "Uncle Mikey… do you think, when I'm bigger… we can be like Allison and Raphael?"

Michelangelo widened his eyes, feeling a hot blush rise to his cheeks. "Uh," he stammered, "just, uh… how much do you know about Allison and Raphael?" When she didn't answer, he figured that she probably knew enough to know what she was asking. "I know this is the twenty-first century and that girls a lot more straightforward," he breathed, "but this is kinda ridiculous."

Seeing Rosalind look down, Michelangelo quickly added, "How about this: keep that in the back of your head for the next, oh… sixteen years. If you still feel the same way, ask me the question again. At least then, I won't be eight times your age."

Being as resilient as most children are, Rosalind smiled and replied, "Okay, Uncle Mikey! Good night!" She lay back down and covered herself in the blankets. Michelangelo watched over her for a moment before shaking his head and closing the door behind him.

_Can't let Raph know about this_, he knew. _I've got a _lot_ of taunting due my way._

* * *

"Mike! Just the turtle I wanted to see!"

Michelangelo looked up from his cereal, having just sat himself down to watch some Saturday morning cartoons. "Allison! Hey! Wasn't expecting to see you here so early! Considering how late Raph got in last night, I figured the both of you would probably be sleeping until noon." Offering her a spoon full of chocolate cereal, he asked, "Cocoa Puffs?"

"No thanks," Allison remarked, standing by the sofa and looking down at him. "I actually came down here as an emissary." Michelangelo asked what she meant, and she queried, "So, I heard you were babysitting Ros last night. How'd it go?"

"Oh, it was great!" Michelangelo gushed. "Sweetest little kid I've ever seen… granted, most of the little kids I see are on television screens. But yeah, I never knew a kid her age who was so quiet. And smart! If she was any more of a dork, I'd say she's growing up to be another Donnie."

"I heard that," said Donatello, who was working on his computer in the corner.

"So…" Allison continued, sitting besides Michelangelo. "Anything exciting happen? Any trouble?"

"Trouble?" Michelangelo asked. "Pshaw! You're kidding, right? How could there be trouble? We watched a movie and I sang to her and told her a story, and that's pretty much it. Not even an idiot could get into trouble with a deal like that!"

Allison raised an eyebrow, then took a newspaper out of her bag. Michelangelo immediately knew that he was going to end up regretting his words. The paper was folded over to a specific article, and Allison tossed it onto his lap. "I've got a sudden urge to sing 'American Idiot,'" she told him. "Don't know why."

Michelangelo gulped at the headline. "Toddler and Mystery Man Foil Robbery-in-Progress!" A quick scan of the first paragraph informed him that two-year-old Rosalind Donnelly called 9-1-1 from a house that was currently being burglarized by a man and his two stepsons. When asked if she was in danger, the toddler proclaimed, "Nope! My Uncle Mikey's taking care of it!" Police have no leads on who this "Uncle Mikey" was, as neither he nor the young girl live in the house, but they have him to thank for disarming the culprits.

"Oh… my… gosh," Donatello breathed. Michelangelo flinched, not having heard his brother creep up behind him and read over his shoulder. "Mikey, you… you didn't! What in the world were you thinking?"

"Robert flipped his lid," Allison told him. "He would've thought he was seeing things, but Rosalind admitted to everything. He was just about ready to jump into the nearest sewer with a chainsaw. By the way, he was wondering whether or not a chainsaw would actually cut through your shell."

"I've never tested it," Donatello replied, "but I'm almost tempted to serve Mike up as a guinea pig for that. Seriously, Mikey, do you have any idea how much trouble you could have gotten her into? She's only two years old! Wait until Leo and Master Splinter hear about this!"

Ignoring his brother's lecture, Michelangelo put his bowl of cereal down on the coffee table and offered Allison a sideways glance. "So… how was Robert's date last night?"

Allison blinked at him. "Great, apparently," she confessed. "He's going to help Robyn move into her new apartment next week."

"Really?" Michelangelo asked. "And who's gonna watch the mini-bud?"

"_I_ am!" Allison said sternly.

"You are what?" Raphael replied drowsily, surfacing from his room after hearing Allison's voice. Allison huffily replied that she'll be watching Rosalind the following Saturday. Raphael widened his eyes. "What? I thought ya told me you were gonna help me 'n Casey check inventory over at April's store. She's got that new shipment comin' in and needs our help."

Having forgotten about that, Allison lowered her eyes. "Man," she muttered, "you'd think she'd be making enough money to afford a couple of full-time assistants."

"How do ya think I managed to pay for the tickets to last night's game?" Raphael asked her sarcastically.

"Soooo," Michelangelo brought up casually, putting an arm around Allison's shoulders. "Rosalind's gonna need a babysitter again, huh? I mean, let's face it: moving heavy boxes around is _way _too dangerous to do with a little kid at your heels."

"So is stopping three armed men when you're supposed to be babysitting!" Donatello reminded him.

"Donnie, go away," Michelangelo told him. "I'm trying to settle a business deal here."

"Mike," Allison said, "if you honestly believe that Rob would let you babysit his daughter again after that crazy stunt you pulled last night, then you're even more insane than I had given you credit for."

"You'd be surprised by his unlimited stupidity," Raphael told her, crashing down between them on the couch. "Look, just have Mikey come with us to the shop. That way you, me, Casey, 'n April can keep an eye on _both_ 'a the rugrats."

"You and Casey as babysitters," Allison moaned. "Why does this _not_ sound like a better idea?"

"Settled!" Michelangelo said quickly, standing up and taking the newspaper with him. "Woo-hoo, another day with the mini-bud!"

"What's this?" Leonardo asked, coming in from his room. "Did you just get yourself _another_ babysitting gig, Mikey? He must've done some bang-up job last night, huh?" When he received no answer, Leonardo wondered, "What?"

Raising an eye ridge, Donatello remarked, "Read the newspaper he's holding."

"Eep!" Michelangelo squeaked. Leonardo looked at him suspiciously, not liking the fact that Michelangelo would rather keep something newsworthy from him. Leonardo approached him, but Michelangelo quickly dashed away, ripping the newspaper up as he went along.

"It's okay," Allison told Leonardo as she reached into her bag. "I figured he might do that, so I brought another copy. You might want to sit down for this, Leonardo."


End file.
